


A soul is a terrible thing to tear in two

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dixoncest, Incest, M/M, dixcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates are commonplace, but brothers being soulmates is something rare. Caught on the roof in Atlanta, Merle changes his fate when he thinks of the affect being left there would have on his soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A soul is a terrible thing to tear in two

People had always judged them, as if they had any control over what had happened between them both. Sure, being a Dixon got you judged anyway in the world, but after Daryl had been born and Merle had started feeling like he did towards his younger brother, people just began judging even quicker. It wasn’t like it was his fault, nor was it Daryl’s either, it was just the way it was.

  
Merle remembers being younger, when their mom had been pregnant with Daryl and hoping for a girl to even out their household. She’d been smiling that day, bright and happy as she’d done the chores with him helping halfheartedly as she’d chirped on about how exciting it was going to be to share another child with her soulmate. Merle had never understood the whole soulmates thing. To him it was watching his mother be beaten daily and refusing to leave because it was fated. He’d never wanted one himself but he knew it would happen one day.

  
His mother had always spoken about it, smiling with a wistful gleam in her eye whenever she’d described the first time she’d seen her husband. The way her heart had begun beating in time with another, how she’d felt excitement and joy as soon as their eyes had met across the schoolyard. She made it sound like a damned romance novel and Merle didn’t believe for a second that finding his soulmate would feel anything like that.

  
Sure, some people were bonded, but his eleven year old head had never seen the point of it and never even dreamed of finding his own soulmate someday. Especially not merely a few months after that day, when he’d been asleep in a hospital waiting room and then shoved into consciousness to go and meet his new baby brother. He remembers feeling a flutter in his stomach but he’d put it down to excitement because surely you were meant to be excited when you met your new sibling?

  
It had started with a flutter, but with each step towards his mother’s room it had increased into butterflies, then a churning sea full of waves crashing against the inside of him. His heartbeat had been loud in his ears, his mouth had gone dry and there had even been a slight tremble in his fingers as he’d opened the door. Merle remembers thinking he was coming down with something, he remembers being worried about getting the baby sick when his mother had handed the swaddled blue bundle to him, but the thing he remembers most is how it had all fallen into place when the baby had opened his eyes and looked at him.

  
This was his soulmate.

  
It wasn’t unheard of, but it was definitely rare for soulmates to be related. Usually the worst it got was cousins, and people had come to terms with the fact that they couldn’t choose their soulmates and let it be. But brothers? Merle had never heard of two brothers being soulmates before.

  
It had taken years to understand it. Daryl being a baby had made it difficult to work out because it wasn’t like he could say how he felt. But it was obvious now Merle thinks back to it. Though he’d not known what he was doing, he’d helped with the new baby and Daryl had latched on to him immediately. Daryl stopped crying when Merle held him, his first steps were towards his brother, his first word was Merle’s name, and despite his parents telling him he was wrong, it became more than obvious over the years that Daryl felt the exact same as he did. They were bonded, soulmates, brothers, two halves of a whole in separate bodies.

  
Merle knew it was a reason their mother had gotten so sick and turned to the drink. When her newborn child had shown more of a bond with him over herself, she’d all but given up on life. He’s sorry it happened, but he’s not sorry for what he and Daryl have.

  
They’d grown up together, gone through the death of their mother together and survived their father together. Of course, it hadn’t always been smooth sailing. They’d fought more than enough over the years, but no matter how angry they’d gotten there was always that link between them, like an unseen bond that could never be broken, a connection that no one else in the world could ever understand.

  
It hadn’t been easy, not with their father hating them everyday, smacking them around and cursing them for being born that way. People never understood it, but it wasn’t as if they could hide how much they meant to each other. As they grew up it gradually became more. When Daryl hit puberty and the feelings began to grow between them, it evolved into so much more and allowed them to fully explore the bond between them. Despite what their father had always told them about it being wrong that they were brothers, all they ever knew was that it felt right to be together.

  
The years had passed and they’d learned how to be their own people as well as each other’s shadow. Merle got himself into plenty of trouble, managed to get himself some time behind bars and it was only then that they learned how to stretch the bond between them. Daryl always spoke of those nights alone as being the worst he’d ever experienced, feeling the bond between them stretched over the miles, the ache of Merle’s absence creating a cavern in his chest where his heart should have been. Merle never told him, but he remembers the pain of those nights too.

  
Since then he’d tried to keep himself clean, or as clean as someone living in their situation could be. Clean enough not to be caught, at least. He’d spend the nights holding Daryl to him, thinking over his own actions and making sure that he wasn’t possibly going to be linked to any of the illegal activities he’d been involved in. They weren’t rich enough to stop the drug running, but Merle was making sure he was smart enough to get away with it and stay with Daryl.

  
Now the world had gone to shit, and though they weren’t having to cover their asses from the cops anymore, it appears Merle Dixon still can’t manage to keep himself out of trouble. Even here in the middle of an overrun Atlanta on the top of a roof, he’s managed to piss off a damned cop and get himself into the shit. Walkers he could deal with easy enough, but it seems that people are still a damned problem for him.

  
“Hey! Hey you can’t leave me here!” He barks out, trying to be heard over the low rumble of thunder that echoes in the distance. The cop sneers at him, that dumbass hat on his head, hand on his holster like he’s the damned authority in this place. Piece of shit cop rolling in and taking over.

  
“Take the time to cool off while we work things out here.” The cops tells him, talking down to him, making assumptions like all cops did when they saw a redneck. Their assumptions were right, he was a piece of shit, but they didn’t need to assume that right away.

  
Tugging on the handcuffs Merle knows they’re not going to break anytime soon. He’s been cuffed many times before and he knows no matter how many times the magician on stage manages to get out of the cuffs, it’s all a show and these ones are the real deal. The pipe does shake a little when he throws his weight behind every tug, yanking at it and feeling the metal thrum and vibrate beneath his palms. But it’s not going to give, not anytime soon, probably not ever.

  
The cuffs dig into his wrists, and his constant worrying at them causes his skin to break. The blood leaks onto his wrist, staining the leather cuff he’s worn for years, a gift from Daryl. Huffing to himself he kicks at the pipe, trying to get out some of his anger as the rest of the group ignore him.

  
He hates that. When people act as if he’s beneath them, not there, not a problem, not worthy of their time. It makes him grit his teeth, strain against the metal even more if only to make himself noticed by the group.

  
“You better not be running off with the damned key.” He hollers, glaring at the damned cop and smirking a little when he manages to catch his attention. “You’re gonna get your ass killed and leave me up here to rot ain’t you?” It’s not a nice thought, but he’s been through worse. If nothing else, Merle Dixon didn’t intend for the end of the world to be the end of him.

  
“I’m going to get us out of here.” And it seems cop guy feels the same kind of stubborn determination that Merle himself is known for. The guy looks a bit too clean cut, but there’s something there in his voice that makes Merle listen all the same. “All of us.”

  
It still doesn’t mean Merle believes him though. Kicking back, he leans back against the pipe, glad that his leather vest shields him from the heat of the metal. “Yeah right. You walk away with that key and you might as well shoot me yourself.” He points out, because in this new world death was far easier to come by, even if it wasn’t by walkers.

  
“Don’t tempt me.” The cop smirks, but there’s a play of dangerous humour there at the corner of his mouth before he turns. And then the group are all leaving, heading towards the stairs to get back inside the building and a moment of panic falls across him. It’s one thing to be sitting here with them, but on his own and without any control of his own fate? That did not sit well with him at all.

  
“Hey woah there Officer Friendly!” He calls out, metal of the handcuffs clanging against the pipe as he moves to catch his attention. “Think about this for a godamned second! You can’t leave me here like this man!”

  
Heatstroke, dehydration, walkers, heck even other humans, there was no end to the list of things that could kill him up here. Either way, he didn’t want to die like this, alone, abandoned, tied up like some unwanted mongrel. The panic echoes through his veins and for a second he can feel a small tingle of surprise from the other end of the bond. Daryl. Quickly he shuts down on it, keeping his own emotions to himself and trying not to put any worry into his other half.

  
Fortunately, the cop comes back over, maybe feeling guilty, or maybe just hearing the sheer worry in his voice as he demands to be let free. “It’s not like you’re making a good case for you to come with us, Dixon.” The cop tells him, voice calmer than before, lower, more even but there’s still that danger of a man pushed to the edge in his voice.

  
But if the cop is pushed to the edge, then Merle is damned near hanging from it. It’s one thing to threaten him, but leaving him here wouldn’t only mean his death. “You leave me here and you’re not just hurting me.” He points out, meeting the cop’s eyes, being as honest as he knows how to be and trying not to be such an ass. “You don’t like me that’s fine, but I know you’re not the kind of man that would punish someone’s soulmate for their other half’s actions.”

Because that was the thing. The bond works both ways. Merle can feel Daryl always and right now though they are apart he can still feel Daryl as easy as if he were next to him. Leaving him here to die wouldn’t only be killing him, but it would kill Daryl, slowly and painfully as if ripping out his very heart from his chest. They’ve been separated before, torn apart by the law and metal bars, and God he remembers the pain well. As if a rusty knife had been driven between them, cutting at their bond until it was sheared and strained, leaving them sharing nightmares, sharing worries and pain even more so than usual as their bond tried to work through the distance.

  
It had been too much for either of them to bear and damn if that hadn’t made Merle try his best to never be separated from Daryl again.

  
“You’ve got a soulmate?” The cop asks, voice quiet, question hanging in the air between them and Merle can see something, not dangerous, but maybe longing, in his eyes.

  
Merle is not the most honest of men, but right now he tries with everything he has to let the other man know that he’s telling the truth. “Yeah I do.” He tells him, and the bond inside of him thrums with a pulse of love sent from him to Daryl. “My baby brother Daryl is back at our camp, can feel the excitement of him off on a hunt right now. Probably getting us some dinner as we speak.” He explains, and the cop pauses, turning away and looking stuck in his decision.

  
The other man looks torn, he’s down on one knee, close enough to talk to Merle but not within range of a punch. He looks broken almost, as if he’s working through his own pain as the situation dawns on him. When the cop turns to call behind him, Merle has a feeling he’s beginning to understand the severity of the situation. “This true?”

  
“Yeah.” The blonde answers, tucking her hair behind her ear before folding her arms across her chest. She looks wary, but understanding and not for the first time Merle wonders if maybe blondie has a heart under that feisty attitude she shoved in his face. “First time I’ve ever seen brothers as soulmates. But it’s true.”

  
The cop sighs. He looks tired and reaches up to rub at his eyes, still knelt, still unsure and Merle knows that he can win this if he continues being honest with the man.

  
“Right now the pain is bearable because we chose to separate, but if I don’t go back there with y’all?” He grits his teeth, remembering every night spent feeling Daryl’s tears through the bond, feeling the cavern of loneliness inside of himself widen until he didn’t feel whole anymore. It’s something he promised Daryl he’d never put him through again and he doesn’t intend to break that promise. “You wouldn’t be able to imagine the pain-“

  
“I don’t need to imagine.” The cop interrupts and Merle pauses for a moment.

  
There is pain in the cop’s eyes. Real pain, the kind of pain that Melre has felt before, and in that second, he knows. The cop doesn’t have to imagine it because the cop has been there. The cop has felt the pain of being torn away from a soulmate, of having himself split in two, torn apart from within and left with no physical wounds.

  
Merle didn’t think he was capable of having sympathy for anyone, but he can feel it now and it aches.

  
“He’s my soulmate.” Merle says again, and he can almost feel the want within himself to get back to Daryl and hold him in his arms. They’ve never been the greatest at sharing affection between them, but damn he’d give anything to be able to tell Daryl how much he couldn’t live without him. “I know I’m an asshole, and I ain’t apologising for anything, but you uncuff me, make sure I get back to camp and back to Daryl? I can behave myself. Not for any of you fuckers. But to get back to Daryl.”

  
The cop meets his eyes, there’s a moment where Merle isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but then there’s a key and the cuff is being clicked open from around his wrist.

  
“You had better stop acting like such an idiot. We could do with some cover fire though and you look like you’re a decent shot.” The cop justifies it to himself and Merle doesn’t disagree at all. They stand, he rubs at his wrist and pauses when the cop goes to hand his rifle back to him. “Man up. Think of your soulmate, and don’t make me rethink my choice.”

  
When they reach the quarry and Daryl is in his arms, burying his face in his neck and muttering about feeling him being scared and in turn being worried himself, Merle looks over his brother’s head to seek out the cop. Before he can nod his thanks to the man, he finds the cop in the arms of one of the women at camp, and a kid sandwiched between them both. Daryl squirms closer into his arms and Merle feels pretty damned sure that he made the right choice. 


End file.
